


Rough

by Hambo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Porn, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambo/pseuds/Hambo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You approach his room that evening, hesitantly, feeling a nervous lump grow in your throat. You force yourself to ignore it. How can he intimidate you so easily like this? Is it his size? His voice? The way he acts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fem!Reader / Soldier: 76

"Hey," A husky voice murmured into your ear, prompting you to turn and face the tall man behind. You both were crouched into the rubble of what seemed to be a building.

  
You whip around in the direction of another explosion in the distance, then more yelling and laughing and bullets - so much noise - and you wince. He looks disgruntled. "You weren't supposed to be here, damn kids," He complains. You don't care to correct him on your age.

  
Pausing, you simply make yourself smaller and cover your ears. This all feels like a dream - something distant and inconceivable. He makes a low grumbling sound, finally grabbing your hand tightly and rushing outside. You were not prepared for this.

  
He maneuvers around the rubble of your hometown, through alleys and old backyards and the remains of the local park. The sky is dark and eerie, a perfect correspondence to the widespread destruction happening below. From what you gather, Overwatch is fighting some greater force here, though you can't be sure. The battle isn't in your line of view and frankly, you don't want it to be.

  
Your town was evacuated, and you stayed behind.. why? Oh, all your belongings are here. Your life is here. You even came to stay with your parents, who also didn't want to leave. They insisted it was merely a drill, that Overwatch would not really be fighting here. 'It's all baloney', they said. So you hid with them.

  
"Everyone gets out - everyone gets out but one stupid kid," He says to himself angrily, pulling you along without looking back. You trip and stumble trying to keep up with him, but he's just too fast and you hurt your feet on the rocky debris. Blood soaks your toes.

  
Looking back, he pauses for a moment before bringing back his annoyed expression. He didn't seem to be concerned. "Stupid kids and their damn dead weight-" He wraps his arms around your waist suddenly, causing you to lose your breath. You find yourself draped over his shoulder, bouncing haplessly as he sprints through the street and jumps over remains of the local shops.

  
You don't remember closing your eyes, but when you open them, the man has put you down on a white leather couch next to a table. Around you lay scattered playing cards and bottles. You just look up at him, disoriented.

  
He just stares at you for a moment before walking back out of the - well, it seemed to be a large room. The sounds of the previous battle seemed to have died down, only a few soft shots could be heard in the distance before disappearing completely. You curl up on the couch, waiting for something - anything. And then there are footsteps.

  
To avoid any potential danger, you slip beneath the table.

  
"Where's Ziegler?!"

  
"Over here!"

  
"Winston!"

  
"Athena, home."

  
"Where's that little-"

  
You recognize only one of the voices, though there seems to be so much panicked commotion amongst all the people that it gets drowned out. You feel the room fill up, and aren't very bothered by it until you feel a hard kick in the side of your head, followed by an impromptu yelp.

  
"What the?! Who the?!!?"

  
You look up at the legs of the girl, instinctively scurrying backwards and getting up to stand as far away from your attacker as possible. You are grabbed rather harshly once you stand. Around you crowd many strange looking people and a big gorilla. Overwatch.

 

  
"Angela!" The man from before yells.

  
"Coming, Jack." A woman softly replies.

  
"Seventy-six." He corrects.

  
Your eyes widen, and you move your arm to get away from his grasp but he's quite strong. The woman approaches you, studying your face and then crouching to examine your feet.

  
"Oh, dear. Nothing too bad here, but she needs to sit down. Hana, can you move?"

  
The girl on the couch scoots over, allowing you to take a seat. While everything seemed so daunting, something about this doctor made you feel warm and safe.

The soldier from before just eyes you, arms crossed.

  
"I'm here now." She coos, leaning down.

* * *

  
"She's got nowhere to go at all." Mercy says, and you can hear her tone getting sharper. You crack your eyes open, stifling a small yawn.

  
"Just drop her off with the other evacuated citizens. She'll find a friend."

  
"They're dead, Morrison."

  
"What?"

  
"Talon-"

  
"Damn it. It's things like this - this is why we had to disband. God damn it."

  
You heard a breathy sigh as you opened your eyes, watching the two agents converse in the hall. You sit up in your bed, Eyeing the room. You'd spent the night in their headquarters and were still dizzy and in shock from the events before. Mercy sparked up as she noticed you were awake.

  
"(y/n)!" She said, stepping airily next to the bed and looking down at you. "Better today?"

  
You nod in response.

  
"Good, good!" She smiles, looking down at her clipboard and reading something you could not see. You eye Solider: 76, and he just turns to walk away.

  
"What do I do?" you ask quietly. Mercy just looks worried.

  
"We're not sure yet, darling. Chin up."

  
You smile weakly in response.

* * *

  
The soft creak of the door eases you awake. It's dark.

  
You open your eyes, just enough to see past your eyelashes in front of you. It's Soldier: 76. You watch him quietly approach the bed and stare at you for about a minute. He looks... well, he's hard to read. Finally, he leans down and pulls the covers up over your shoulders. Your eyes are closed again before you can watch him leave.

* * *

  
Each night after the first, Jack comes into your room and checks up on you. He doesn't know that you see him, you make sure of it.

  
Contrary to the way he watches you in your slumber, during daylight he is cold and harsh. You sit outside while the Overwatch agents do physical training; you watch him push himself to his very limit and then some. He's determined, I'll give him that.

  
That evening, on his regular nightly visit to your room, something is different. This time, he moves cautiously beside your bed and sits in the small chair beside it. He rests his hand on his cheek, watching you with that same expression that you could not read. Finally, he closes his eyes until you hear grumbly snores escape his mouth.

  
The next morning, he is no longer there.

* * *

  
Finally, you scrounge up enough courage to ask Mercy about Jack Morrison's strange behaviors.

  
"Maybe he wants to make sure you're recovering. He might feel guilty, (y/n). Overwatch can be a rather destructive organization."

  
You don't feel very settled with that answer, but you let her leave anyway. Something about the way he was seemed too incapable of feeling guilt or concern. _Today, I'm going to confront him about his nightly visits. Who better to ask than the mysterious man himself?_

  
You approach his room that evening, hesitantly, feeling a nervous lump grow in your throat. You force yourself to ignore it. How can he intimidate you so easily like this? Is it his size? His voice? The way he acts?

  
Finally, you force open the door and let yourself inside. Knocking would not have radiated the confidence that you wanted to show here.

  
You stumble upon a very, very, very interesting sight. Well, interesting is the closest word you had for what you saw.

  
Curled over the edge of his bed, gripping the frame with white knuckles, sat a very red-faced Soldier: 76. In his hand was his cock, dripping - you think (it was hard to see as he desperately tried to cover it) - wet. His face was flushed a bright red, and as you entered he had been letting out a rather breathy moan with some strong hand movements. His eyes shot up and met yours.

  
You didn't give him time to react; you simply backed out and slammed the door shut. You scurried back to your room, nearly tripping the entire way there, and crawled beneath the covers.

  
Yikes.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, the clack of heels upon tile forces you awake. You rub the sleep from your eyes, and as you do so, the memory of Soldier from the night before flashes behind your lids. You hadn't gotten much sleep the night before - part of you was scared that the man was chasing you, angry. The other part of you was in complete shock. And there was a third part (you weren't sure how prominent this part could be), that wanted more.

"(y/n)! Rise and shine, mein mäuschen!" Mercy coos, drawing the shades to fill the room with natural light.

You squint against the sun, letting your thoughts dissipate for a moment. Mercy smiles down at you and seats herself on the edge of the bed.

"Illios today. Just 3 hours."

You nod weakly in response, leaning back into your pillow. She casts a sidelong glance out the window.

"I would stay away from Jack today."

At her words, your heart drops to your stomach.  _Does she know? Did he tell her?_

"...He's on duty here at the base while we deploy." She continues. You let out a relieved breath, taking a minute to calm your nerves.  _He's angry because he's not fighting._

"So, in three hours, it'll be like you're home alone. You're safe, though, darling."

There's something about the explanation, though, that still troubles you. You shake the uneasiness away and offer Angela a reassuring smile. She returns it without hesitation and finally rises to leave. You watch her exit before finally closing your eyes again.

* * *

When you wake, the sun is no longer peering through the window. In its place, the moonlight casts a blue haze over the room.  _It's definitely been more than three hours._

You rise from the bed and step into the hallway. Nearly all of the lights in the base appear to be off, other than the faint yellow glow coming from the left end of the hallway at the meeting room. To your right, a faint strobe of color on the floor invites curiosity. You step closer to the light and look around the corner.

Soldier: 76's door sat slightly ajar, and the light from a television set projected dancing images onto the floor in the hall. Your heartbeat gains speed. You take a step closer, and another, until you are just close enough to touch the door.

 Inside, the room is dark. Despite the tv clearly being on, there is no sound playing. On the screen, an over-dramatized porn movie is playing. Through the small opening, you can see the woman on the screen moaning quietly. The noise is muffled by a faint tapping noise coming from the other side of the room. You knew, for certain, that Solder's bed lay just five feet from the television set.

You take a slight step to the right and lean closer into the door. Just as you suspected, the man sat as he did: hunched over, unclothed, making rapid hand motions. Your mouth became suddenly dry, but you stood like a statue in place.

His gaze was focused on the screen. He pumped in quick succession; With each movement his breathing became heavier and more desperate. You forgot how long you'd been watching for until his strokes gained speed and he made a low grumbling noise. Thick, hot spurts of cum landed silently on the concrete floor in front of him.

A pool of blood begins to form in your stomach, and as you prepare to move backwards, he briefly meets your gaze.

Panicking, you move quickly out of the doorway. Your head is whirling as you attempt to make sense of the situation. You take a few slow, hesitant steps back down the hall until the door creaks. Instinctively, you turn around, and the dark figure of Soldier is standing against the frame. He's wearing his usual dark cargo pants and a holster, but nothing else. The air in the room is thick and heavy with tension.

 He doesn't say a word, so you take his silence as an opportunity to leave. You continue down the corridor, shakily, until you're at your quarters. You hesitantly sit on the edge of the bed.

A figure eclipses the hallway light that floods your room. You look up at the man you'd seen just one minute prior. Your heartbeat speeds up and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge.

"Voyeurism," He starts. Your words get stuck in your throat.

"I didn't see anything-"

"Enough." He moves towards you, but the room is so dark that you can barely make it out.

"Jack, I didn't mean to-"

"Stop," He interrupts you again in that low, husky voice. "That's sir to you."


End file.
